


Waterworks

by mariusgaaazzh



Category: Naruto
Genre: Brothers, Established Relationship, Gen, M/M, industrualization of Konoha lol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 14:22:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15608199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariusgaaazzh/pseuds/mariusgaaazzh
Summary: Tobirama makes some friends. Hashirama thinks on the nature of change. The Uchiha are somehow the reasonable ones.(Two stories and an ending.)





	Waterworks

Tobirama had a plan.

In fact, he usually had several - scattered around his desk, shelved for later amongst the summon scrolls, or just buzzing around his head when he was on the way to his office in the mornings.

However, this one was turning out to be special. It was slowly occupying all of the available space on his desk in the Hokage tower, and spreading into charts on the walls and piles of written-up pages on the floor.

He had books ordered from Land of Iron, and already conducted some of the basic experiments within the Senju compound. In fact, it was mostly down to the particulars: the types of alloys to be used, the dimensions of the seals to keep the elemental chakra flows in balance. Anticipation, uncharacteristic in its disorder, shadowed his movements and followed in his steps, drawing him deeper into blueprints and calculations, and away from regular sleep patterns.

An electric lightbulb, a recent Mist design, spilled its light into a neat, yellow circle over his work. And he started staying up late into the night.

His older brother made attempts to drag him away from the research, rather exuberantly claiming that no man could sustain himself on spatial geometry alone, but quickly recognized the futility of it.

They shared the same Senju stubbornness, Hashirama and he. The one which, like rolling waves or the roots of the trees, undid mountains and commanded shapes of the oceans. So Hashirama would just give an affectionate sigh, ruffle his hair, and leave him to it, occasionally dropping in with takeout.

He had his own things to worry about, from the neighborhoods in their growing village, to the nascent, shifting web of political alliances. Hashirama seemed to have truly found his ground within their world, especially since the whole matter with Madara sorted itself out.

The two were moving towards some solid form of a relationship, for the younger Senju could not be thankful enough, as he was no longer subject to the barrage of his brother’s multiple and poorly articulated feelings about the Uchiha. Not that it lessened the radiance which seemed to wrap Hashirama in its flow, whenever heard Madara’s name.

Tobirama could have sworn that it outshone the lightbulb.

His own work and his place remained uncertain. They were no longer at war, and he no longer had to be his brother’s second. And members of the Senju prefered to build their new houses on Konoha’s green slopes.

When Tobirama looked towards the future, and saw straight lines and interlocking systems. For he too had something he could build.

The night was tipping towards the morning, when he thought he finally had the whole scheme pinned down: pipes in brass casing would lie neatly under the streets, with the minutiae of exchangers, pumps, and backflow preventers holding the whole grand design together.

But something caught his attention, and Tobirama winced. The fault had to be in his tired eyes.

He looked through the chats and verified his calculations: there were no mistake, neither in the complex hydraulics of the project, nor in how the underground currents of water would impact the village’s defense fields.

Everything placed the main pipe of his project directly across the Uchiha quarter.

Tobirama huffed. And threw his hands behind his head, as he stared down the blueprint on the wall. Tomorrow would be interesting at least.

+

 

The Uchiha prefered to live amongst their own.

Tobirama would have things to say about the clan’s self-devouring isolationism, but it something felt right in how unmistakable those streets were. Unique in their narrow turns, and in their houses houses - with tall slits of windows and sharp edges of the roofs, from which effigies of guardian deities watched him with burning eyes.

There were stores open, and a semblance of a market, and light-skinned, dark-haired kids kicking up dust with their games, and teenagers practicing the kata, and adults raising their heads from their chores.

Tobirama felt the many eyes follow him, and felt like it was well-deserved. He had been here only a few times before, when the bond of their clans’ alliance or his administrative duties called upon, but never alone. And his back felt bare.

And now, he hoped that he wouldn't have to linger: run a number of diagnostic jutsu necessary - the sturdiness of the bedrock, chakra flows, and underground waters - and be out. Tobirama was so focused on his measurements, that did not feel an appreciative gaze sliding down his shoulders.

“Ah..” Someone drew behind him, “Would you look at that. The White Devil of the Senju.”

And Tobirama swayed in his tracks, before realizing that whoever spoke was not addressing him.

“Keiko, weren’t you telling us how his sui-ton was a match of you deceased wife’s?”

The voices were old, cracked with age, and female. Lively and loud, aware that he could hear them, and not shunning that.

“She could send a waterball further, but I have seen nothing like what ended poor Izuna,” spoke the one who had to be Keiko.

And Tobirama could not reign over his curiosity. The Water technique was - understandably - not the Uchiha speciality. But there were a few exceptional practitioners, and if the woman meant whom he thought…

He turned, to see half a dozen women sitting on the stairs of what appeared as a baker’s shop in a side alley. In variation, their hair was marred with white, and their bodies - with decades of battle and starvation their clan endured. Their dress was traditional and elaborate, bearing less pull towards the mixing of styles and modern fabrics which was overtaking Konoha, and Tobirama felt suddenly out of depth in his dark turtleneck.

In the doors for the shop stood a short woman with white hair put away in a tight braid. Her tenacious, wrinkled hands held on her walking stick with power and grace not unlike that of Uchiha Madara, when he lead his clan’s warriors with the ceremonial gunbai.

She felt him looking, and her eyes met unmistakably with his. And only them then Tobirama noticed that one of her irises was scarred with white, blind with the Izanumi.

And she winked.

“If I were a few years younger, I would be all over that.”

“Mhhhhm.” Someone dragged response, and rest of the women ringed with laughter and enthusiastic nods.

Tobirama would not admit on his deathbed, but he felt his cheeks grow hot. Hastily, he turned away and hurried down the street, the laughter of the women following in his steps and echoing in his ears.

He did not let his jutsu run.

+

 

“So you’re saying.” Hashirama reached out to touch the light bulb, which now hung above Tobirama’s ceiling, and then immediately pulled back, surprised by how hot it was. “That this thing runs on water. Like a change within the chakra nature?”

“Yes. Steam, that is. Whatever turns the turbine.” He was happy to explain, poking at his marinated sea cucumber.

His brother brought boxes from a seafood place this time around, and settled on his desk, right over all of the painstakingly organized research. And for that, Tobirama would throw peanuts at him from his chair. “It is a prototype, however. Most of the energy goes into heat. But I reasoned I needed a better light to work until - “

He made an uncertain gesture over the mess of his study. And shifted, smiling coyly under his brother’s stern gaze. “It's not like I can make you think of anything else either, when you have a goal in mind.”

“Possibly not.” Hashirama nodded, digging into his takeout box with chopsticks.

“It's just eerie, isn't it?” He looked up at the lightbulb with a degree of mistrust, while shoving noodles into his mouth. “Transformation of energy which is a not a jutsu.”

Tobirama had no particular opinion on the matter. In fact, he didn’t quite trust his ability to see the moral weight of things beyond their direct utility. His understandings of right and wrong were erased and rewritten over a number of times already. First they buried their kin killed by the Uchiha, and swore vengeance, and then his brother forged an impossible alliance. And he was now an entertainment for their old, and working to get them fresh water.

“What is it, brother?”

He belatedly realized that he was being stared at, and tried to chase away his thoughts, feigning tiredness. But Hashirama did not know him all his life to buy it.

“Is someone giving my younger brother trouble?” He smiled, received an incredulous look and broke into his joyous laughter. “Is that the lightbulb?”

Tobirama did not even dignify that.

“You know you can tell me.” Hashirama’s voice became serious, and his eyes - earnest.

And Tobirama thought that yes, perhaps he really could.

And his brother would wholeheartedly listen to his plan, and then try to understand all the specifics of the project: the interchanging water pressures, and hydraulics, and electricity. And then laugh, and produce one of his generic sentiments, and promise to take the matter to Madara and the council. And then it would perish in their uncertainty.

Hashirama’s genius rested in his ability to reignite people’s capacity for hope. His brother was a visionary, and a dreamer, and they were now living amidst his most daring dream of all. But when it came to the routines, to making controlled estimates and measuring the next step, Tobirama knew that it was up to him.

There had to be a part of the dream wrought after his own image. And Hashirama understood, once again.

“The difficult part, at least?” He asked.

“The difficult part..” Tobirama repeated, getting his thoughts together. “I need to be.. speaking to someone.”

“And that's all?” Hashirama was taken by surprise, and got noodle sauce splashed all over his cheek. “You know. Sometimes it is good to start with introductions.”

And it was Tobirama’s turn to laugh. His brother could seem as the most unimaginative person ever, to those not knowing.

+

 

The following morning, he found the Uchiha women sitting next to the same shop, if in a slightly different arrangement. This time around they ignored his presence entirely, not bothering to interrupt their conversation as he approached them, waiting for an opportunity to speak.

And then Tobirama’s patience gave in. This was the longest he had been ignored since he was twelve.

“Uchiha-san,” he bowed to the white-haired woman who spoke of her wife, “I heard you were the spouse of Mina, the foremost sai-ton user of your clan. I did not have the honor of facing her directly, but I have heard numerous stories of her deeds.”

There was a silence, during which the women looked at him, and then cracked into laughter. Like a murder of crows, Tobirama could swear.

“Good afternoon to you too, Senju-sama.” The woman greeted him, defeating her smile as her comrades also stopped laughing. The wrinkles formed beautiful crescent lines around her eyes. “My name is Keiko, as you heard.”

Tobirama huffed.

“So nice to introduce yourself.” Someone else chimed in. “We were wondering who was the tall handsome stranger who so suddenly appeared in our modest corner.”

“Unfortunately, for none of you ladies.”

He looked over his audience, and gave a smile that he knew was beautiful. The one he used on foreign dignitaries, the daimyo, and - occasionally, Madara, when he really needed to piss him off.

“Really? And here we were, already getting out our wedding kimonos.”

There was a rustle of snickers along the gathering, and Tobirama snorted along with it, folding his hands over his chest.

“And what does hold your attention instead?”

And Tobirama thought he could as well be upfront about it. The satisfaction of those words sat with him unspoken for too long.

“The central plumbing system.”

There were ooohs, and aaaahs. And he positively could not tell whether the women were mocking him or not.

“Centralized distribution and supply.” Unexpectedly to him, Keiko nodded. “Mina mentioned the possibility.”

And looked up at him again. “Would you like some tea?”

And before he could produce a polite refusal, Tobirama was dragged unto the bench, and surrounded by the old ladies.

“Running water? How are you going to make it work, Senju-sama?”

“It is a long term project.”

He resigned, and drew out the konji in the air. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter is hashimada's :)


End file.
